Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1887-07-20
THE BELL In THE CANON.


sound. The brain that conceived "the
Wonderful Voice" struck the key. note
OF terror. The story OF John Which
er's bell is case in point.
The Whichers were g. family OF
strong common sense and indomitable
animal courage One of the sons was
a Pinkerton detective, and years ago
went into Jackson County, Mo-, to
hunt down the James gang. he was
captured by them, tied to q tree and
shot to death because he stubbornly
refused to turn informer. Another OF
the boys fell into the hands Of Indians
In Arizona and died at the stake. A
third son, John Whicher, was g. print
er, and back in 80 was foreman of
the Leadville Chronicle. He was
fine mauly fellow, straight az string,
six feet high, and after a while he took
the mine fever and went over into the
Gunnison country on a prospecting
expedition.
He was all alone, carrying, his pick,
shovel and Winchester, and good
deal Of desultory wandering took him
finally into a. little canon where he
found a promising "outcroppins, and
vent to work to locate claim
1t was desolate place, but beautl-
fulin q wild rugged way. On either side
of the valley that formed the bosom
of the valley mountains sloped up and
up until the blue tops merged into the
blue sky, while on the rocky and
granite-strewn activity no living thing
found root. No game existed there;
the very birds never flew across the
oh f~r<>y
the currents OF air that even the wind
had no voice. This dreadful and un-
natural stiffness was the first thing
that impressed itself upon Whicher.
Particularly at night time, when the
stars, glittering and frosty as they al
ways seemed in those attitudes,
crowned the sky, he would sit In front
of his cabin, and the silence would
grow so vast and profound that the
beating of his own heart would drum
in his ear like trip-hammer. He was
not an imaginative man, but gradu-
ally an awe of this solitude
grew upon him. And gradually, as he
afterward told the story, another
feeling crept in. The rock-ribbed gorge
began to assume q certain familiarity,
as though he had seeh the place some
time before and only partially re-
membered it, and he could not shake
off q subtle impression that he was
about to see Or hear something that
would make this recollection plain.
There was no human being within
two hundred miles, and several times
he was on the point of abandoning
the claim and going to one of the
northern camps. But before he could
make up his mind he struck an extra
ordinary formation. 1t was g. sort of
decomposed quartz, faxed and
fecked with gold in Jumps as big as
pinheads, and ragged thread that
seemed to have been melted at one
time and Iun through it. Whicher
was enough of g. miner to know that
it wouldn't take much OF this to
make him rich, and he worked with
feverish haste, uncovering the ledge.
On the second day after the discovery
he was IN bottom OF his shallow shaft
when he suddenly became aware that
he was hearing g. bell ringing. How
long he had been unconsciously listen
ing to it he did not know, but the
thought struck him that there could
be no bell within weeks Journey of
the spot. Still. he could hear it dis
tinctly, faint and far, yet perfectly
plain. It sounded like church bell.
Whicher spr ang out Of the shaft
and stood listening. The sound con-
fused him and he could not tell ex-
actIy from what direction it came.
1t seemed now north, now south and
now somewhere above him, tolling
slowly, slowly and so faint that after
each pulsation he was sure ne fancied
until he heard the next. While he
stood there the tolling ceased.
The excitement of the mine had
passed away from him like q
fever from 81 sick man. A
sort OF inertia crept over him
and he dropped his pick and
idled for the rest of the day thinking
about the bell AS yet he was pot
afraid, but when that night after dark
he heard the slow, rhythmic tolling
once more, he felt an icy creeping in
his scalp and turned sick with dread.
He was afraid of himself, afraid of the
awful solitude, and afraid to be alone
with that spectral sound.
The next time he Heard it was in
the afternoon. He stared about him,
anu JuC O1u ECHSC I'll 1C-
turned tenfold. The granite gorge
seemed trimming with some horrible
secret it was about TO tell. He feared
to look behind HIM, and some awful
presence seemed to Turk In the very
air. Still the bell kept tolling. Be-
fore it ceased Whicher was flying out
Of the canon, haggard, muttering to
himself, and clapping his hands to his
ears. He made his way to Gunnison
City, starting up at night to hurry on,
and pushing over the almost impene-
trable country at such a speed that
when he reached his destination he
was broken down, and sick for weeks.
He often talks of the silent canon and
the ledge OF gold, and says that he
will go back some day, but not
alone. But when ne speaks confden-
TALLY of it he admits that cold hor-
ror SEXES him at the bare thought of
revisiting the spot. The story of the
mine was verified by pieces of the
quartz that he brought back, and